Edification
by Silverr
Summary: A member of The Six discovers why there's a rule against entertaining drunken students in one's rooms. ** Written for a warcraftkink prompt. Features somewhat clueless Kael, tipsy Jaina, instigator Telestra, and an illustrated book of shivarra erotica. ** Warning: contains mildly dubious consent.


Disclaimer: Warcraft and World of Warcraft are the intellectual property of Blizzard Entertainment, Inc. and are being used in this fanfiction for fan purposes only. No infringement or disrespect of the copyright holders of Warcraft, World of Warcraft, or their derivative works is intended by this fanfiction.

Description: A member of The Six discovers why there's a rule against entertaining drunken students in one's rooms. Written for a warcraftkink prompt.

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><p><strong>Edification<strong>

_by silverr_

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><p><em>.<em>

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He finally thought to test the remnants of the ancient wine that Telestra had brought (because of course he'd hidden all the evidence the instant he had .. _resolved_ his little problem) and unsurprisingly it turned out to be laced with a pollen notorious for its erotically-liberating qualities, but by then far too much time had passed to offer it to young Lady Proudmore as explanation. Or excuse.

Or even, if he was to be entirely honest, as an invitation to repeat the evening's activities. Though of course he didn't expect _that_ to happen.

Not to mention that he'd pretended since the incident that he remembered absolutely nothing of the hours during which he most certainly had _not_ been at the mercy of a drunken female student in his private chambers. Which was prudent, because after all no august member of The Six would ever allow such a situation to arise. Even if it was entirely due to spiked wine.

And even if one didn't remember most of it. Which one didn't.

He did, however, burn what was left of Archmage Fingal-Wills nethersilk sash, because, well, it was certainly damaged well beyond even the magical repair skills of a Sunstrider.

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The beginning of the evening was clear enough. He'd planned it for weeks, patiently waiting for just the right conversational opportunity to invite the young Jaina to his quarters to look at some extremely rare esoteric tomes. He had triple-checked to make sure that according to human law she was considered "of legal age" for ... certain activities he'd hoped might occur some day (well, occur someplace other than his fevered imagination). He'd even done supplemental reading on female pleasure, which had the unexpected bonus of explaining quite a number of less-than stellar encounters he'd had in his youth.

At any rate, once the invitation had been smoothly delivered and accepted he'd had his rooms specially cleaned, had new robes made, and then sat in nervous anticipation until, just as the clock chimed nine, there was a somewhat raucous knock on his door.

When he opened it he was surprised – and yes a bit disappointed – that she had brought Telestra, but then he wasn't a callow swain of only a century or two: he did understand patience.

The pink-cheeked human entered his room (and how could he have not noticed her unsteadiness?). As he gawped at the sight of her dropping with uncharacteristic gracelessness into his divan, Telestra draped a long purple sash around his neck.

"Do you like my scarf?" she asked loudly, and then said in a whisper, "I know you like this human, and she's mentioned that she feels shy around you, so I decided to help out and move things along. You can thank me later."

He was speechless.

"Archmage Fingall-Wills gave it to me," Telestra said, speaking at a normal volume once again. "Do you want to know what I did to get it?"

"Ah ... not particularly." He was disconcerted that Telestra was using the sash to pull him over to the divan.

"He thinks I did something naughty!" Telestra said to Jaina with mock indignation. "You think I did something naughty, don't you?" she asked him. "Well, all I did was offer him a nibble of the cherries on my cupcakes!"

Jaina giggled.

He wasn't sure, but he suspected that "cupcakes" was a euphemism.

He at first refused the bottle of wine that Telestra held out – until she asked if he was really rejecting a gift? "I know, I know," Telestra said with a wink, pouring the wine into three small goblets, "but we won't tell if you don't. After all, you're no longer my student, and she's never been yours."

Averting his eyes at this all-too-true phrasing, he apprehensively took a sip of the wine.

And thus the evening began. It wasn't all a blur, of course: he did remember the way Jaina alternated between being adorably shy and innocently flirtatious. He also knew he must have shown her the books that had provided the original pretext for the evening, because surreptitiously smelling her hair as she bent over the pages was a cherished fragment of memory.

He even remembered chiding himself for being licentious as he glanced obliquely down her décolletage.

It was likely some time after that that Telestra had fetched down one of the limited editions from the very top shelves – the minx climbed like a monkey – and had, against his strenuous objections, shown Jaina the illustrations of Shivarra bacchanals. He could recall Telestra saying quite firmly, "Well, me and Jay can show you such things better than some dusty old _book_," and then proving this statement – to his shock and delight – by kissing Jaina quite enthusiastically. This kissing went on long enough for clothing to begin to become awry, and he had a vague sense that afterward there had been a number of toasts to Love, and perhaps a second bottle of wine might have been opened, but after that things got hazy. There might have been a tangle of arms and legs and hands and lips and hips on the divan, and various people might have shed various items of clothing, and he might have nibbled at the cherries on some astonishingly beautiful cupcakes ... and then Telestra's sharp little face might have unfastened his robe and said, "Well, look at _you,_ you dirty old magister!" and then someone might have mentioned disciplinary procedures, and the need for letters of recommendation, and the use of the key to the special room off the Violet Parlour, while some other voice just agreed to it all …

.

When he woke up the next morning – tied to a chair, his robe entirely unbuttoned and all of his undergarments missing, with a length of bright purple fabric wrapped and tied with exquisite expertise around his alarmingly unfulfilled member – he knew three things for certain.

First, something was seriously wrong with the morning sun, because it was much _much_ too bright. By at least an order of magnitude.

Second, the rule against entertaining students in one's private chambers now made much, _much_ more sense.

And third, Archmage Fingal-Wills would most certainly _not_ want his sash back.

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(05) 8 Feb 2014 ~ edited to adjust Telestra


End file.
